


Cell #42

by Dhyana



Series: In and out Cell #42 [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nursing, StarAccuser, a little graphic depictions of violence, but really not that much I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dhyana/pseuds/Dhyana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pain was omnipresent. It had accompanied him his whole life. Now that he was lying here, in this pathetic little cell, unable to move and dying slowly, he realized that death was the ultimate peace he had always been yearning for. </p><p>... too bad that there was this Terran. Complicating things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work-in-progress and I haven't figured out the end yet. It's not going to be an epic long fanfic though. Less than 10 chapters I guess. I try to update as often as I can, most likely once a month, depending on real-life and stuff :)

Cell #42 was one of the bigger prison cells in the complex. It was located on the deepest level of the high-security wing, reserved for the mentally ill and deadliest creatures of the galaxy. It wasn't a pleasant sight and normally the persons brought in there wouldn't come out again until they were dead. Marks all over the walls, scratched in by angry, panicked or desperate inmates, indicated their silent, lonely torture. The previous one had killed himself, speeding up the process of doom by ripping out his eyes and pounding them into the ears. He hadn't been able to stand the silence. The soundproof room amplified one's own noises. Leaving the inmates to their biggest enemy: themselves.

Inhaling. Exhaling. The blood flow in the ears. Heart murmurs. Of which the new inmate had four.

He was severely wounded, thrown into the cell without any medical attention, lying on his back and only covered by his ruptured clothing. His armour was completely gone. It had been cracked up and crumbled into pieces, like a bug, bursting into violet flames in the end. It was cold. _So cold._ His blood loss was tremendous, yet he was alive. Too proud to die this way. Even though the pain made him pass out from time to time, he always opened his eyes again, forcing his mind and body to not give up. Not yet. A finger twitched, then some toes. Just to keep the rest of the blood flowing, transporting the immune system cells and healing abilities through his body.

Exhaustion was creeping up his spine and made his head feel dizzy, his body numb. Or was it the desperate need for water and nutrition? No. Deep down he knew that it was death. Her touch around his throat, her sweet song of salvation filling his ears. He had no idea of how long he had been lying here. How long it had been... that _they_ had defeated him. Dooming him to vegetate and die in this pathetic little cell. It was so hard to stay awake. _So cold._

A new sensation after eons of darkness let him flutter open his eyes: a clicking sound. Light. A second clicking sound. Darkness again. Some moments passed. Maybe hours, he couldn't tell. He blew out some air, frustrated that nothing would happen. But then, suddenly, he felt it. The presence of someone. Shuffled footsteps and the low noises of breathing. A dimmed glass light, which burned right through his irises as if he was staring into the fires of hell, appeared before him and illuminated his visitors features.

"Fuck", he felt a hand on his left cheek, "I'm getting you outta here, buddy!"  
The others facial expressions blurred before the Kree's eyes. His visitor was moving too fast, tracking impossible. Or maybe it was because he couldn't focus at all? Was that reddish brown hair? The voice definitely belonged to a male, but no Xandarian would dare to free _him_. Ronan the Accuser. He wanted to speak, to curse, to scream, yet only a low, painful groan escaped his lungs. _Help me._

"I don't know how far away you already are, but if you can hear and understand me, then don't be afraid!", he felt the hand again. This time it travelled up and down his right arm, pushing fingers into the skin, kneading veins and then a sudden prick in the crook of his arm. "It's medicine. Just medicine. All good..." Another prick, this time at the back of his right hand. "... and some nutrition. Aminos and vitamins and stuff. You gonna feel better. Well, I hope."

The feeling was beautiful, rushing from his arm to his stomach down to the toes. Warm. _So warm._ He rolled his eyes and let out a low moan. Whoever this visitor was Ronan would grant him many favours.

"Feeling better already?", again he was touched. The hand seemed to check his temperature, as it was placed lightly onto his forehead. "Great. Awesome, buddy!" A swift pull on the first needle and a slight burn some seconds later. "Quick exchange. That's NaCl solution now. Will take a while to seep into your system though..."

Ronan savored the peace bringing feeling he got from the medicine and proper nutrition. _So warm._ So feather light. He drifted in and out of conciousness, always feeling a tiny bit better when he opened his eyes again. His body was supirior even compared to other blue Kree, but he would be a fool to think that his pain would be completely gone soon. At least he could manage his thoughts and thinking process again, now that he was freed of Death's grip.

His saviour was sitting next to him, knees pulled to the chest. One arm was slung around the knees so that the head could rest on the forearm. The other arm held up the infusion bag. The clear liquid, approximately 1 liter, slowly flowed into his vein. Natrium Chloride solution. How odd. _Only primitive species used that._ Ronan couldn't see the face and it really nagged him that he hadn't been able to identify his saviour yet. The voice seemed so familiar. Was it one of the Kree spies stationed on Xandar? He moved his arm as best as he could - which wasn't much - but still succeeded at drawing attention. His aide looked up and yawned.

_Oh no.  
Oh gods no._

Ronan's whole body tensed up in an instant. His face was grimacing uncontrolled, induced by the extreme pain his nervous system recieved from the cramping, torn muscles. His lungs were greedily sucking in air. All he could think of was moving. Moving his body to kill the _Terran_. To his most infuriating disappointment though, all he was capable of was lifting his head up merely an inch. Still too weak. Too many ruptured nerves and broken bones...

Peter saw the struggle of the blue man and acted immediately. _Shit,_ the Terran thought, _is he having a seizure!?_  
"Hey hey! Calm down!", he put the infusion bag down and crouched behind the Kree's head.

What was the Terran doing!? Ronan couldn't see him anymore! He bared his teeth and growled and grunted even more, so desperate to fight.

"All good! I am here to help you! Fuck! ... Don't die!", prayed a low, soothing voice behind him.

Ronan felt how his head got lifted up and placed onto something soft and warm. _What?_ This was weird. He didn't understand what had happened and stopped trying to move, looking around confused. He spotted the Terran's chin above him as the guy bend forward and grabbed the infusion bag. 

...  
Was...  
was his head... _lying_ on that Terran's lap!?

"Is this better?", Peter placed the infusion bag onto his shoulder so that the liquid was still able to flow down the tube. He proceeded to softly stroke Ronan's bald, blood crusted head. He looked the Kree right in the eyes: "Could you please... blink or something if this is not hurting you?"

Ronan's eyes just widened. That Terran was _mental._ Purely insane! Yet the Kree saw no indication of bad intensions behind the Terran's behaviour. And as some fingers started to firmly push against his temples and then gently massage him at his neck, he couldn't resist, closing his eyes just to open them again. This feeling was so nice. So different than the terror of death. He didn't care anymore. All of this didn't make any sense. He was tired. And it felt so good.

_Wait._

He was most likely dead! Yes! _That's it!_ This was just some twisted scenario his mind was forming as his body died away! His eyes were half closed and a low chuckle left his lungs, forming a smile on his lips. So good... being dead.

"You're really creepy, dude", Peter picked some dried blood and crusted black paint away, "but good that you take all of this with humour."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter <3  
> If you have some pro-tipps for me on how to tag a fanfic, please let me know X'D I'm still fairly new to this
> 
> Visit me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeps, you are amazing! Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments! I am really flattered that you like this fanfic and take your time to leave me a note ^3^
> 
> As I said, this is a work-in-progress and some endings came to my mind, but - thanks to Staubengel and melonbutterfly - Peter is going to be alive at the end of it (yes, that was one option for me, a major character death, but yeah, they are right, Peter is just too nice to be killed off). Still, this is supposed to be a drama, or at least I try to wrap it as one, and I can already guarantee you that there won't be a happy ending. So if you're not okay with that, I don't know if you will enjoy where this fanfic will go eventually.
> 
> I was also totally overwhelmed and baffled, that beautiful [Sereq-ieh-Dashret](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1703683/Sereq-ieh-Dashret) mentioned my fanfics in her epic story [Spoils of War](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11005436/1/Spoils-of-War). For everyone who wants to read an awesome, incredibly detailed, bloody good written Peter/Ronan/Gamora fanfic... THAT'S THE ONE!
> 
> Now, enjoy the second chapter of Cell #42 :) I am looking forward to your reviews!

He woke up from a dreamless sleep. His body tingled energetically, so he stretched his arms and legs to the side, yawning with content. Tensing up and releasing his muscles felt so good. The stretch rushed through his body and woke up every single nerve and fibre. Most parts of his body responded, but the numb feeling in his legs wasn't completely gone. Standing up would be possible, yet walking might turn out to be quite a challenge under these circumstances. Making some munching noises and yawning again, he opened his eyes ... and suddenly froze. They widened with shock. _Did he... watch me?_

Peter's eyes were sleepy but fixed on the Kree. He smiled with a slightly exhausted expression: "Morning, buddy! How did you sleep?"

Ronan's face turned a shade darker and he bared his left incisor, growling lowly. This was not good. This was actually _terrifying_. He thought he had woken up in Death's realm. But no, he wasn't dead! Which could only mean that the scenario with the Terran was real! Quickly scanning his surroundings, he realized that his apprehension was the truth and ... his head was even still lying on that guy's lap! Deciding to play weak and wounded again, the Kree didn't continue to stretch and waited for that Terran to do something.

"Well, good that I don't have to wake you up, but I have to go and get some more medicine and nutrition for you. I will be back as soon as possible though. Promise!"  
Ronan felt how two hands were closing around his neck from behind. The Terran's hands were warm and cautiously placing his head back onto the ground. Next thing that happened was utterly... hilarious? Stupid? Ronan couldn't find the perfect word for it, but the small guy had rolled onto his side and _tried_ to stand up. He looked like a bug or a turtle on its back, unable to spin around.

"Oh my god, my knees!", he moaned as worn out as someone could possibly be, "I didn't move a single inch, so I really hope you had a good rest!"  
Still lying on his back, Peter lifted one leg up and massaged and shaked his muscles, trying to get some life back into them. "This feels awful!"

Ronan had tilted his head and was curiously watching him. _Just imagine how I am feeling, you pathetic little creature!_

"I bet it's not as bad as you are feeling right now, but.. boy... this ain't fun as well...", with a swift motion, Peter had stood up and continued to stretch his legs, swinging them back and forth or dropping into weird squatting positions. _He has it with these absurd hip movements..._ A few minutes passed and after the Terran was finished with his acrobatics, he proceeded in his task to get new medicine and nutrition. Grabbing his knapsack, he aimed for the door.

"Wait", was Ronan's first word spoken again. Harsh, raspy, hurting his throat more than expected.

Peter turned and looked dazedly at the Kree: "Did you say something!?"  
He walked back and knelt down next to him: "Seems you recover pretty fast!" Putting his hand on Ronan's forehead, he checked his temperature. "You're getting cold again, though. I really should go!"  
He began to quickly pick up used utensils and threw them loosely into his knapsack.

"Why?", Ronan gasped lowly, his gaze quizzically fixed on Peter.

"Mh, I told you... to get vitamins and more NaCl. Maybe some patches and ointment, too. I'll see what those dickheads will give me", Peter smiled and met Ronan's view again.  
"Oh... I understand", he said after he had identified the real meaning of that question. He continued to collect all the used needles and syringes and dirty plasters:

"Well, no one understands it, but I... I couldn't kill you", Peter let out an annoyed sigh. He had told that story so many times by now. To the Guardians, to the Nova Corps officers, even to Nova Prime herself, but all they had done was deriding him. Not taken seriously. Pitied. Insulted as being insane, just like the one he had saved through his actions. He was incredibly lucky that he wasn't an inmate as well.

"When I touched the Infinity Stone", he began to speak again, "my body was almost instantely ripped apart. Not because of the stone, but because of _your_ rage. It felt as if a wave of pure agony had rolled over me. You had controlled the stone with your tremendous hate, because it had reminded you ... no, it had actually _showed_ you all the great things that you miss out on, because of this war. What _could have_ been... family, children, friends..."

Peter ruffled through his hair, then through his beard, then cupped his face with both of his hands, hiding his eyes.

"The stone showed me some part of your family. Or at least I think they were your family... I don't know many Kree. They were all dead within a split second anyway, killed by some Nova Corps. The thing which moved me most, though, was you. How you had reached out for a woman, who was desperately trying to grab your hand... but you couldn't reach her ... And then that scene faded away so suddenly, leaving me floating in some weird place. Next thing I saw was... was my mum, reaching out for me with her hand, just as you had reached out for your loved one, but I ... I was able to grab it ...", Peter tried to swallow down his emotions.

He couldn't continue. It had been so hard to deal with everything during the last couple of days. He couldn't comprehend why everyone was treating him so fucking terrible. Hadn't he rescued this shithole by almost killing himself? Was it too much to ask for a 'Thank you'? Well, he had done it. He had been strong. But right now, telling this story to Ronan, the guy who was causing all of this, made him lose his cool. He blew out some air, his frustration and hurt filled the little cell and echoed from the smooth walls.

"Well, I ... I am sorry", Peter rubbed over his face and cleared his throat. "You probably think that I am stupid and insane and what-not too, but I don't care. I know that I am doomed and, yeah, you gonna kill me or something. You're fucking Ronan the Accuser, I _get_ that. Okay? You come here and try to wipe out this stupid planet I normally don't care about - at all - and who is the dumbass who prevents it? It's me! The Xandarians hate me because you're still alive and, by the looks, you probably hate my guts as well, because I fucking ruined your plan."  
Peter groaned annoyed as he realised that he was blabbering and, well, Ronan, as he was lying there and doing nothing except for listening, had this expression of "I don't care, you're dead meat".

It was hard for the Terran to accept his ultimate fate, so Peter tried to bargain a little: "We're in this together... I have to treat you and get you out of here." - At that point Ronan lifted one of his black encrusted eyebrows in surprise - "A little team work would be nice in the beginning. Later, I ... you... err... as an Accuser, I am sure you know how to kill a guy quickly. So if you accuse me of... _whatever_... make it quick. Maybe as a thank-you-gesture that I didn't bang you away. But, well, to be honest, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't kill me...", he studied Ronan's features, but they gave nothing away for him. He missed the slight shift in the eyebrows. "Anyway...", he shrugged his shoulders and smiled sadly into the direction of the Kree.  
"I'm leaving the light so that you're not left in total darkness. Oh, and this blanket! I almost forgot!"

Peter produced a small, dark blue blanket out of his knapsack, unfolded it and crouched next to and above Ronan. The Kree hadn't reacted to anything, but when the Terran touched him again, trying to carefully lift his head, the Kree levered himself up a little. Shocked by the sudden movement, Peter let go of Ronan's head and the blanket, jumped away in panic and bounced directly into the wall behind him. His eyes widened and were full of terror, his breathing switched to an uncontrolled hyperventilation. Very bad scenarios formed in his mind - _he's moving, he's going to kill me!_ \- and in all of them he was screaming... His breathing and heart rate lowered themselves pretty quickly though, as he saw that Ronan wasn't chasing after him. The Kree had only inhaled sharply as the support of his head had been withdrawn, which was making him collapse back onto the ground. 

_No walking, not even standing_ , the Kree thought, squinching his eyes.

"Holy shit... ... gods... I .... fuck," Peter's voice trembled, "sorry, I didn't expect you to move..."

Ronan only groaned, completely failing to hide his pain. Something in his cervical spine didn't feel right...

The Terran crouched back and wrapped the blanket with shaking hands around Ronan's shoulders and arms. One end he bundled up and stuffed it carefully, like a pillow, under the Kree's head. After he was done, he let out a relieving sigh.

"Amazing. We're both still alive!", Peter ruffled again through his hair, "sorry again ... "

Ronan was still groaning lowly and grinded his teeth in pain.

" _Fuck_ ", helplessly looking around, Peter stood up.  
"Sorry", he whispered again, "... I ... I'm off to get more medical stuff for you. No more pain. Promise!", and left the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's it :)  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter turned out a little dark, but I promise that the upcoming ones will be more bright + a little fluffy! :)  
> I hope you will like it! Would love to read your thoughts about it <3

The door opened and a faint ray of light entered the room as Peter exited. It was night outside, the two Xandarian suns had already set. He turned his head and looked once more to Ronan, who seemed to be in so much agony that he could barely contain it. Shivering, Peter closed the door and was greeted by a Nova Corps Officer, who escorted him out of the prison complex.

Back in the cell, Ronan was, for the first time since Year Zero, scared again. His pain was so excruciating, shooting through his body like a thousand projectiles. He couldn't make it stop. That was what scared ... no ... what _enraged_ him. Pain he could endure, but being helpless, _dependent_ , was drowning him in self-loathing. Moments of blinding pain passed and let him quiver on the ground.

_So cold... so cold again._

It was humiliating. Did he really deserve this? Being thrown away like garbage and rotting in a cell till the end of his days? He... _had been_ the Supreme Accuser of one of the mightiest empires the galaxy has to offer. Yet his government was of no help. _Politicians._ They probably would drag him in front of the Grand Jury to "keep the peace with the Xandarians". They wouldn't have any leverage though. He knew every twist, every loophole of Kree law and he would make good use of it. What could they possibly accuse him of? Obeying the laws his forebearers had established, fighting for the folk, securing the planets of the Empire and bringing justice to its people? Or that he killed Nova's people how they had killed Krees? The ultimate price would be paid with blood, but not with any of his. He didn't deserve this. And he didn't deserve to die this way!

Gritting his black teeth, Ronan began to hiss and to shift. His body wasn't weak, oh no, and his mind wasn't weak either. He breathed heavily and huffed and puffed, tensing up his muscles. Arching his back, clawing into the ground and envisioning how he would split her, Nova Prime, killing her, tasting her disgusting Xandarian blood while finding rejuvenating sleep in it. She, who had given the orders, imparted him with the strenght to lever himself upright. 

The pain was nauseating. Some of his ruptured clothing had mingled with his healing skin, yet kept stuck to the ground and ripped them all open again. It made him focus even more. He wasn't done. Not even close to finished. After all, the worst pain had yet to come... Cold sweat was running down his temples in anticipation of what torment lied ahead of him. If it wouldn't have been for his unbending willpower, he would have capitulated right here. Sweating, shaking, taking a deep breath, he lifted his arms, enclosed his hands around his yaw and the back of his head. He closed his lavender eyes - and rotated his head into one direction with a swift motion, cracking his cervical spine back into the right position.

 

_White_

_Black_

_An ear-splitting ring_

 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the ground again. He must have passed out. His body must have decided that fainting would prevent further injury.

 _By Hala's name_ , he thought, _I was spared to feel the diaplasis of the luxation!_

How long had his coma lasted? Well, never mind, he had achieved the desired outcome: the numb feeling, which had been lurking in his body the whole time, was gone. Not being able to subdue it, Ronan smiled. _Maybe the NaCl solution isn't a hoax after all._ It was easy now to sit up, which he promptly did. He looked down his body, bend his knees and joggled his ankles. The blanket slid down a little and made him register it with all his senses for the first time.

That Terran...  
He had to come back...  
Being able to move was the first step to get out of here, but he would surely need that pink creature.

Even though moving came naturally to him again, his energy resources were limited. Lying down without hassle, he rearranged the blanket, then reached out to his side. He grabbed the glass light, which had been left by the Terran, and moved it before his eyes. Its light was soft but colourless. Shaking the glass orb carefully, it changed from white to green to yellow to red. As it turned red, Ronan stopped to shake it and waited a moment. The red light had a warming effect on his mind and body and as the glass orb really became warm, he positioned it on the blanket. Warmth spread from his chest through his whole body. He briefly closed his eyes and mumbled with comfort. _So warm._

Concentrating became easier. He drew in the red reflecting interior of his cell, but, even to his surprise, there was actually nothing to see. No piece of furniture, no window, only plain walls. Then again, why would a barbaric tribe like the Xandarians grant him any comfort, if they were all just waiting for him to suck in his last breath.

It was odd that a Terran had prevented his death. Why was that guy even in deep space? Wasn't Terra in the next quadrant and its inhabitants planetbound?

Ronan couldn't quite grasp it why the Terran hadn't killed him. Only because he had seen his past and formed some connection? Even if their story had some noteable similarities, why had he shown mercy? Either the Terran had a poor sense of judgement or was a soft-hearted weakling. Ronan wouldn't show him mercy, though, _if_ he would ever get out of here and complete his mission. The Terran had stood between him and his justice, which was treason and ... and ... maybe he should have a little chat with him first. It intruiged him that such a weak creature had been able to wield an Infinity Stone but then had shown mercy. A weak-minded powerful being didn't make any sense. Something like that was against nature.

\--- -- -

Peter was hurrying to get back to the cell. It had taken him at least 5 hours to get everything together. One sun was already rising again, colouring the sky light blue and pink. He had acquired some more vitamin shots, more NaCl solution, destilled mineral water, protein powder and medical supplies like iodine solution, bandages and patches. But hell was he angry. Really really angry. Those atrocious Xandarians! They had made him wait extra long at the pharmacy, the supermarket and even that gross fast food restaurant, where he had bought the worst sandwich of his entire life. He couldn't wait to get off this fucking planet!

A guard took his weapons and opened the door to cell #42 and Peter slid inside without hesitating. Surprised that the room was flooded with red light and an unbearable heat, he proceeded in his way and crouched next to the Kree. _Fascinating that even mass murderes can look like the friendly alien from next door when they're sleeping_ , thought Peter while he took off his red leather jacket. Ronan's torso rose and fell softly as the Kree in- and exhaled.

Quill also saw that the glass light was radiating this tropical heat, which he didn't even know was possible, but the Kree seemed to totally enjoy it. His face was calm, with lips parted slightly, and peaceful. Unsure on how to approach this situation, Peter looked at the blue sleepy man for some more minutes. _Can't he just wake up and behave like the way he is looking? Friendly? Nice? ... anyway_ , Peter shook his head and started to prepare a vitamin shot.

The rustling woke up the Kree, who was lazily opening his eyes. The Terran was sitting next to him. _He came back! ... And ... he is losing his mind because he can't manage to open a vitamin ampoule..._ internally rolling his eyes, Ronan sat up.

Some of the Kree's shirt sticked again to the ground, due to dried blood and puss, ripping open more tiny wounds on his back. Not even flinching, he took the vial out of the Terran's hand. Peter could hear all the sticky noises and the smell of blood tingled his nose.

It was amusing for Ronan how Peter reacted: shocked and stunned, not daring to move as the Kree was taking the vial. He twisted the cap once and popped it open. He gave it back to the Terran, who was still not moving. Little droplets of sweat had formed on Quill's forehead, but Ronan couldn't decide if that was due to the warmth in this room or due to the shock. The Terran's eyes wandered slowly from his hands and the vitamin ampoule up to Ronan's torso and the Kree's face, connecting their eyes. Ronan saw how the Terran's adams apple moved as he swallowed, his expression speaking of immense terror. He noted that the smaller man began to retreat, but at this point he spoke up:

"One does not kill the hand which is feeding you."

Peter stopped in his movement and mustered the Kree. _How in the seven hells can that guy move and talk like this now!? Wasn't he in total agony when I left!?_

"I will not harm you. I am an aristocratic Kree and not some sort of mindless savage!"

His charade worked! The Terran relaxed visibly. _Oh come on, that's almost too easy..._ He smiled a little, but suddenly a sharp pain shot from his lower back up to his side and chest, making the Kree cramp and gasp for air. He gritted his teeth, pressing one hand against the hurting side. _Fucking Karma!_

"You need more fluids", Peter declared and was sitting down again. "I brought mineral water and protein powder. It should have some magnesium in it to ease those cramps. Also some... eh, Ronan?", Peter inclined his head. The Kree was still struggling to breath properly. "Breath slower, deeper!"  
He put the vitamin shot down and stood up, taking both of the Kree's upper arms into his hands and manouvering them over and behind Ronan's head. Peter's legs gave hold to the Kree's torso as the chest muscles got stretched. The Kree hissed displeased, yet he knew that the Terran was doing the right thing, and thus let him push the arms further back and opening the cramping muscles bit by bit. 

As Peter noted that the rhythm and depth of Ronan's breathing had normalized, he let go and rearranged the blanket. The glass light rolled out and Peter caught it before it could get any further away. The orb was so hot to the touch that he placed it back in the folds of the blanket as fast as he could.

"Do you really like it that hot? This heat is unbearable...", he asked as he wiped some sweat droplets away and proceeded to get the vitamins ready.

"The temperature in here is lower than the winter average on Hala", Ronan answered, feeling a small prick on his right backhand again. His gaze was fixed on the Terran.

"Why did you come back?"  
"Oh, well, because I have to get you outta here."  
"And why is that?"  
"'Cause... you know... if I mess things up, then all the way."  
"What does that mean?"  
"I... err... was invited to the meeting of Nova Prime and your emperor, where they tried to work out a plan on what to do with you", Peter's hands started to tremble, because he knew that Ronan wouldn't like it what he was going to tell him now. 

"Well, Nova obviously wanted you dead and your emperor wanted you back on Hala to put you in front of some grand jury, which would have been ended with your death as well..."

The Kree let out an annoyed snort, which revealed more of his feelings to Peter than intended. He had known it. His government would condemn his actions ... making him the zealot, terrorist, everyone was seeing in him anyway. He swallowed and lowered his gaze. For the first time he couldn't tell if he hated the Xandarians more than his government. He guessed both parties were now equally execrated by him.

"Now, buddy, for the part you really won't like...", the Terran swallowed hard, "I opened my mouth and..."

Silence.  
Ronan looked up and into Peter's green eyes. 

"And what?"  
"... and... I... err... said that I defeated you so it is me who will decide what to do with you."

Awkward silence.  
Ronan's lavender eyes grew wider and his lips parted in surprise. 

"You must be joking..."  
"Ha, would I be sitting here on shitty Xandar then!?"  
"Say it...", Ronan raised his voice, "Say that you are JOKING!", he shouted and the blue warrior's movements suddenly became too fast for Peter to dodge.

In a split second, Ronan had levered himself on top of the Terran and overwhelmed him. As fast as his reflexed allowed him to act, Quill shoved a hand into Ronan's face, but he only felt how unyielding, freakishly strong arms were pinning him down and how two hands then closed around his throat. He landed some serious kicks into Ronan's side, but the Kree didn't budge an inch. Struggling with all his power, he reached down his side and found... _nothing_! Oh gods NO! He had forgotten that the Nova Corps had taken away his guns and taser before he had entered the cell! NO! FUCK!

"Say that this is not what you did!", Ronan yelled, fighting the wiggling Terran. Cold sweat was running down the blue Kree's temples and into his eyes, blurring his vision. But not only that, his vision slowly turned black as well and his grip around the Terran's throat loosened. _No, not now!_ Vertigo took over mere seconds after he felt it approaching. He sagged to one side and Peter seized the opportunity to harshly kick the Kree off of him, freeing himself.

"You fucking bastard", Quill rasped as he retreated, holding his hurting throat. He saw that the blue warrior was in pain again.  
"You sick, fucking bastard!", he shouted, now reversing the situation.

Straddling over the Kree, Peter reached for the ruptured shirt and dragged Ronan's head up. He clenched his fist and with three well placed blows took his frustration out on the blue warrior. Tears started to form in his eyes and dared to run down his cheeks.

"You dumb shithead! Do you know what you have done!? To me? To the galaxy!?", he punched Ronan again, "If it wasn't for you I would still have a life! Everybody hates me! Everybody derides me!" - another harsh blow - "The Ravagers threatened to kill me! Gamora and the others deny to know me! ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!", his knuckles were already bloody, but he reared his fist back and landed the final punch directly against Ronan's jaw.  
He released his grip and rolled down from the Kree, stopped next to him and laid on his back. Hiding his eyes, blending out the world, he stayed there and let his tears flow. Though his anger was what kept him speaking:

"You ruined so many lifes, so many families! Whole goddamned planets!", Peter turned his head and looked at Ronan. "You don't deserve my compassion. No one's compassion! Yet I pledged to take care of you and let you live!"

Hearing that, the blue warrior turned his head as well and unveiled to Peter that dark tears were running down his cheeks.

Ronan didn't answer.  
Yet what he did instead showed Peter the Kree he had also seen in the violet flames of the Infinity Stone: The Kree who was utterly lost between right and wrong. The Kree who had screamed and cried when his mother had died - just like Peter had done it when his mother had died. 

Ronan rolled onto his side and hid his face by pressing it agains the Terran's upper arm.

Not knowing how to react, Peter just let it happen. Because, in the end, he knew that everyone hated Ronan, everyone derided Ronan, his government threatened to kill him and all his former friends denied to know him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)  
> I would really love to know what you think of my writing style. I am really new to fanfics and with this one here I try to be more... serious? My other, longer one is more of a funny one, but here I want to have drama. Well, yeah, would love to know what you're thinking! :)
> 
> Hope to see you next chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> [Follow me on tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter! :)  
> This one is a little more fluffy and not so heartbreaking.

The confined space of the cell was driving Peter mad. The red light. The heat. All too much! His heartbeat rushed so loudly in his ears that he couldn't think clearly, his body trembled uncontrollably and all in all this situation was so unsettling that he would have loved to jump up and run. Yet he couldn't.

Ronan was lying curled up next to him. The Kree's face was pressed against his upper arm. For the past 5 minutes they had been lying like this. Way too close for Peter's liking, but the blue man was only sobbing lowly, doing nothing else. No screaming, no cursing, only crying almost inaudibly. What was actually happening? What was he supposed to do? Was moving a good idea? Speaking maybe? Peter settled for rolling onto his side to have a better view of Ronan. By doing so, his upper body and face slid closer to the Kree, but his upper arm retreated a bit.

The eyes of the blue Kree were closed and as Ronan felt that his face was revealed, he took his hands in front of his mouth and nose. He probably wanted to conceal his face, his hurt. Peter couldn't judge him for that. He had heard how proud Kree are, especially high ranked warriors. They would rather die than show weakness. Humiliation and shame clashed together and Quill felt suddenly very sorry for Ronan. He had beaten him up when he had been at his lowest, being defenceless, lying on the ground.

"Hey", he whispered softly, "I... I am sorry. I shouldn't have done that..." He lifted his free arm and laid his hand onto Ronan's shoulder. The Kree flinched and pulled his hands even closer, covering more of his face, but opened his eyes. Peter saw that the lavender eyes, which reminded him of bright starclouds, were looking at him through blood encrusted fingers.

"You're a wreck, buddy, and you goddamn _deserve_ it!" Peter stated with a strong voice and squeezed the blue shoulder, then rearranged the dark blue blanket. "But I am here to help you."  
The Terran sat up and reached for his knapsack: "So you either play along now or you'll keep on rotting in here. And with playing along I mean not strangling me or trying to rip out my thorax! I am really done with everyone's shit!"

He dumped the contents of his knapsack onto the floor between his legs and searched for a certain package. He had bought it for himself, as a mood-brightener, which he needed now more than anything else in the galaxy. When he found it, he ripped the package open. It had some very sweet smelling things in it and Ronan became curious.

_Food!_

Peter picked a piece and laid it onto the ground, directly in front of Ronan's face.  
"High-calorie, disgustingly-sweet, low-nutrition Xandarian food. Yummy!" he mocked but took a piece for himself and bit into it, grimacing when the taste filled his mouth. "I need to get off this fucking planet..."

The candy was red and the form and smell reminded Ronan of a fruit, but he couldn't exactly tell which one. Grabbing it and biting off a chunk wasn't helping with determining the flavour. Then again, he didn't care, because, _oh heavenly gods, food!_ He chewed it with such a passion that Peter began to sneer.

"I have never seen anyone eating this crap with so much joy!" he shook his head in disbelief. "You must be really starving."

Ronan finished his piece and sat up. He rubbed over his eyes and face and cleared his throat. _How I must look... pitiful._ He sighed and then eyed the candy package. Peter got the hint and handed it over, eyes rolling.

"Please... try to understand me" Ronan said somewhat submissively while chewing on the next piece. "My situation is not quite cheerful and neither do you nor do I want to be in it. I was angry, because... with your _claim_ you took my freedom away."

 _What!?_ Peter let his mouth fall open. "Why? I didn't claim you in any way! I just said that it's me who... will.. decide... ........" _Oh._ Peter turned silent.

"You said it in front of my emperor, which makes it even worse."

"But I didn't mean it that way!" Peter groaned. _This can't be happening!!_ He tried to rescue himself: "When this is all over, I am going to fly to some sweet-ass planet with lots of sunshine and beaches. And I am most definitely not taking _you_ with me! You gonna be a free man, you can do whatever the fuck you want!"

Ronan stuffed his mouth with the sticky sweetness because he was not only starving, but also fearing that he would ruin this strange situation by saying something. The Terran had _no idea_ what his rights were and what power he held with his claim. Better no clarifying it so there would be a real chance for Ronan to get back into his old rank.

"Here, drink this," Quill passed a water bottle to Ronan. "What do ya think? Can you walk? You were in a lot of pain when I left, then jumped me and now you're sitting here like this. I take it you heal pretty fast."

"I haven't tried standing up," the Kree almost choked on the candy with which he was stuffing his face plus drinking the mineral water simultaneously.

"Careful, man. Take it easy! There's more food when we finally get out of this coffin."

Candy and water were soon history and the Kree looked expectantly at Quill.

"I only have protein powder and NaCl solution left. Let's try to get up!"

With a swift motion, the Terran was on his feet and held his hand in front of Ronan, who only looked quizzically at it. Rolling his eyes, Peter withdrew it: "Whatever man, just try to get up!"

This was actually a pretty important moment for Ronan. He could feel his feet and legs, but what if... what if he couldn't stand up? When he first had woken up in this cell, he _could not_ feel his legs at all. Then his cervical spine got damaged and he had to set it back. Ever since then, however, his body seemed fine. If bones had been broken, then they would be fused back together by now. The Terran couldn't know how frightened he was and he didn't dare to show it that much, but comments like "Beam your ass up, Scotty" were not helping. Swallowing, he rolled onto the side of his right leg, bent his left one in front of his torso and extended it, pushing himself up.

Okay. He was standing.

Though his lips started to prickle immediately and heat rolled through his body, darkening his vision. Drawing his hands in front of his face and growling lowly was giving him away to Peter, who rapidly reached out for him and steadied him.

"You're alright? Maybe slower next time..." Peter wasn't sure where to touch the blue Kree because wherever he placed his hands, it felt as if he was digging directly into open wounds.  
"After all you were vegetating in here for the past 7 days."

"7 days!?" Ronan rasped and was deeply shocked, holding onto the Terran a bit tighter until his weak moment had passed.

"Yeah... well, try walking around. Pump your system. I’m gonna pick up all the stuff."

Peter dove down and began to fill his knapsack with the things which were lying around, including the blanket. The glass light was left lying on the ground as a light source. When he was ready, he turned and looked at the Kree, who was wandering around the tiny cell. Ronan's body was covered with wounds, his back more than his front. The dark clothing dangled loosely, disclosing with what force the Infinity Stone must have hit the Kree. His armour was completely gone... Remembering that the Hadron Enforcer hadn't penetrated it, yet a tiny purple stone had pierced through it and cracked it open like a bug, made Peter shiver. It's a miracle that he himself had survived the stone... He shook his head. He didn't want to think of _"what if"_. Observing the Kree a little further showed him that Ronan was able to walk around with ease. Only some sort of long-sleeved undershirt and reinforced combat pants and boots had survived and were now covering the blue warrior. _Well... oh holy_ , Peter burst suddenly into laughter.

Ronan's back was facing the Terran and as the Kree heard how Quill began to laugh, he looked over his shoulder. "What? What is so funny?"

"Your cheeks are glowing, man," Peter snorted.

"My cheeks?" Ronan was confused and touched his face. What was wrong? Was his face paint smeared so badly?

"Buttcheeks..." Peter couldn't hold back and tittered with joy. How can a tall, muscular beast of a warrior act this innocently? Gods, innocent and Ronan in one thought was inappropriate and wrong on so many levels.

The Kree reached to his rear and felt that a lot of cloth was missing from his pants. They were ripped and his underpants had holes. It probably had happened when his body had dragged across the ground, precipitated by the shock blast of the Infinity Stone. His back must look equally exposed. He carefully tugged on his shirt and pulled the end out of his pants. Thankfully Kree military undershirts were long, perfect for stuffing them into combat pants. Luckily for Ronan, its end was even intact so he was able to cover his bum by stretching it down a little. It didn't feel right for him to wear it that way, yet running around Xandar half naked had never been his intention. Then again, as a teenager, he would probably have insulted Nova Prime by showing her his shiny butt. His pouty expression almost switched into a smirk.

"You're ready?", Peter asked as he stood up and walked over to the Kree. A nod was all he got for an answer.

"I'm gonna tell you now how we're doing this: I knock at the door, the guard will open it. We'll go outside, you ain't killing anybody. We walk over to the place where I am staying, you still ain't killing anybody. People will scream at me and will throw stuff at us - you pretend not to notice. Or whatever. Just don't kill anybody. We reach the apartment and... don't know... you maybe should take a bath. You look really shitty. I also got some food over there. Capiche?"

"Will there be guards following us?"

"Maybe? I don't know? Maybe one is playing hero and shoots us both into our heads... just let's get out of here." Peter turned and proceeded to the door. Two swift knocks against it and it opened.

"Mr. Quill?" A young guard answered.

"Yeah, we both are coming out now."

"Good gods..." the guard whispered anxiously as he saw how Ronan emerged from the cell. He had been the one on duty when that blue maniac had been thrown into it. He remembered clearly how Ronan had looked. That was burned right into his memory. But this was worse. The nightmare of every Xandarian stood in front of him as if _nothing_ had happened! The Kree's two lavender eyes were looking down at him, piercing through his being and making him nauseous.

The guard flinched suddenly as he registered that Peter was trying to get his attention by snapping his fingers.

"Oi, my weapons, man! Give them back to me!" the Terran demanded.

"Yes, sir! Sure! At once!" The guard turned and knelt down, rummaging around in a carton and fished out two blasters and a taser grenade. "Here, sir."

He gave the weapons back and then fixed his gaze upon the Kree warlord again. He swallowed, then set into motion: "This way, please."

The three walked into the direction of a giant metal door where the Xandarian guard had to put his personal chip card into a reader and confirm his request of leave with his right eye. The heavy door slid away smoothly and opened up to a longer corridor. More guards were stationed there and abruptly stopped with whatever they were doing when they spotted the trio. Weapons were instantly drawn and aimed at Ronan. Peter let out an annoyed groan and pushed the young Xandarian guard faster into the direction of the elevators. Ronan followed with a slower trot. He calculated which guard he would have to take down first if any of them were to start a shoot-out. How he would dodge them, _kill them_. Though reality struck him when his side began to ache again.

Eventually, an elevator brought them up to the top level of the prison where another guard took over. The younger one saluted and turned. _Marked for his entire life_. It was an odyssey to get out of the prison and took them at least another half hour. Ronan found it very odd though that there were no formalities. He was literally strolling out of the most-secured, heavily-guarded prison of Xandar. Finally, when they reached the main gates and stepped through them, Peter lifted his head up to the two suns and inhaled deeply. It was a nice sunny day and the fresh, crispy air filled his lungs. He rotated to see where his blue appurtenance was and got surprised with what he saw: Ronan had engaged in a conversation with a Xandarian guard. _Holy shit no!_

"... yes. They were a present to the Nova Corps from the Kree Military," responded the guard when Peter arrived.

"What's going on!?" Quill interfered.

"I was asking why this soldier holds one of the most advanced Kree weapons in his hands. I got the answer. We shall continue." Without looking back, Ronan strode forwards. Quill lifted his eyebrows in confusion, but the Xandarian guard only shrugged his shoulders. Both were equally confused.

The Kree and the Terran had to cross one bigger plaza, but nothing meaningful happened; thus they reached the white building complex where Peter was staying without any inconvenient incidents. All the passersby had switched their lanes to avoid contact with them. It had seemed the more space between them, the better. Peter guessed that no Xandarian wanted to meet Ronan face-to-face. Good for him, because no one had dared to throw garbage at him because of that.

The apartment Peter rented was located in one of the midsections of the skyscraper-like complex. Quill unlocked the door and let Ronan enter first. Everything was white: the elevators, the corridors, the whole apartment... White walls, tables, chairs, kitchen counter, bathroom and bedroom furniture - all white and hardly used. As he entered the Kree found himself standing directly next to the kitchen aisle to his right, and up in front he saw a big bed and a large window front. The entire right side was also a window front which let them overlook Xandar's capital plus flooded the apartment with light. Otherwise, there were almost no walls. Only the bathroom was separated from the main room. Ronan proceeded to the center of the room and waited there. As soon as Peter had closed and locked the door, the Terran heard a muffled thud.

"What the hell!?" he saw that Ronan had collapsed onto his knees and was holding his side. With a groan, the Kree let himself roll completely onto the floor, staining the white carpet with dark blue, almost black blood.

 _His wounds must have broken open while walking._ "Dude! You just can't pass out like this!"

Peter knelt next to the Kree who was grinding his teeth in pain.

"What's wrong!? Where does it hurt??"

"Everywhere, you fool!"

"Okay.. okay... just... calm down!" Peter hurried to the bed and got a pillow, which he placed under Ronan's head.

"You were in pain the whole time, weren't you?"

"Yes," Ronan huffed. "But I wanted to get out of that cell."

"Well, you're out! Now calm down, you're safe here. I'll get you water." _Gods, this stress isn't good for my blood pressure._

Peter filled a glass with cold water, gulped it down - because he hadn't had a sip in quite some time either - and then filled it up for Ronan. He also grabbed a small package of pills. The Kree was already sitting upright again when Peter returned to him.

 _His one side seems to really bother him,_ Peter figured out as he saw that Ronan had placed a hand onto the side of his stomach. _Urgh, it's the one where I kicked him..._

"Here..."

"What's that?"

"Water and some painkillers."

Ronan scoffed at the notion of taking painkillers. He only grabbed after the water.

"I have some ready meals here, which have to be cooked first. It's super easy though... 30mins in the oven and done. I gonna prepare two? Or three?"

"Three... ?"

"Alright. In the meantime you gonna have a bath and I will tend to your wounds afterwards." Peter stood up and held out his hand again, which, this time, the Kree acknowledged and took.

The ready meals were some type of lasagna that he shoved into the oven, timer set at 45 minutes, because Peter knew that the crap he had here was the shit - and not in a good way. He heard water begin to run into the bathtub, then a splash.

 _Uhm,_ he thought, _maybe I should check on him? Not that he's gonna drown..._

But first, Peter took off his boots and his jacket to get this feeling of "being home".

When he entered the bathroom, he was surprised by what he found. "You know, that's not how you take a bath..."

Ronan was lying in the bathtub, still fully clothed, and looked over to the Terran.

"Yes, don't think of me as a moron. My clothing is sticking to my wounds and scars. If I would strip out of it, I would rip open most of them. I know what I am doing... It's not the first time that I am badly wounded."

"Mh, I see... Your stuff is so ruptured that you gonna need new ones anyway. I'll get scissors."

The hot, steamy water filled the tub slowly and Ronan felt a sharp sting wherever the clean water touched his sore skin. Eventually his muscles started to relax, making him hum lowly whenever a warm wave of bliss was rushing through his body. Though exhaustion took over pretty quickly. His energy resources were so low that it was a fight to keep his eyelids open.

 **NO!** Falling asleep was no option! Mapping all his wounds was important! He _needed_ to know to which ones he had to tend first.

The Terran came back and directly started to cut along the undershirt's left sleeve. The swift fingers were carefully roaming over Ronan's upper arm and shoulder, peeling off the remnants of fabric and inducing a feeling which was somewhere between tickling and itching. No pain, but Ronan's skin was so sensitive that even the slightest pressure was registered by him. He wanted to scratch every tiny bit of surface, shedding off the crusts, and as if the Terran was reading his mind, he started to rub over the whole left arm! A shiver ran through the blue Kree as he felt how the warm, wet palm drove up and down and removed some scab while doing so.

"This must itch like hell!" the Terran commented.

"It does." Ronan only winced, not knowing if this was too good or too maddening. His head was spinning and he really wanted for the Terran not to stop - but of course that's what Peter did.

"Alright. You can scrub yourself later. Let's get you out of the rest. You go for your boots and I'll go for your back."

They began to work simultaneously: Ronan took off his boots one by one before the water flooded them completely and Peter began to cut the fabric along the Kree's spine, freeing him from the rest of the undershirt. The blue muscular back looked horrible. Long scratches began at the scapulas and reached down till the lower back, violet and red bruises were all around and some areas were even covered with so much scab that Peter didn't dare pull at the fabric.

"Hey, there are some areas which should be soaked very thoroughly."

"Where exactly?"

"Here." Peter poked one bigger spot and made Ronan hiss.

"Whoops, sorry... does it hurt that badly?"

"No, it's just itching."

"Mmmmh," Peter nodded. "I know you're a big boy..." was the only sound that rang through Ronan's ears before he registered that the Terran was preparing for an embrace. Tensing up immediately but then uncertain on what to do, he just let it happen. One arm was slung around his neck, cupping his head, too, and the other drew him closer into the hug. Eventually one arm was pressed against his upper back and with a slow yet steady motion rubbed alongside his spine.

_Oh gods!_

_This pain!_ Ronan rolled his eyes and bit into his lower lip to suppress a sound he really didn't want to make. His cheek scratched along the Terran's beard, the smell of this odd reddish-brown hair tingled his nose, but the arm sliding down his back made him lose his control in the end. Fingertips. _Fingernails._ As he leaned more into the touch a low whimper escaped him, and then a wail as Peter withdrew his arm just to do it all over again.

"It's easier this way..." the Terran assured. "There are so many tiny remnants... I'll just scrub them away like this."

After a while, the Kree found he didn't mind. It became more than satisfying with every scratch. And to keep Quill going this time, he slung his free arm around the smaller man. It prickled so nicely whenever the Terran rubbed over certain spots and Ronan felt how all the scab got rubbed away, releasing him from the horrible itch. If he wouldn't be lying in the arms of the foe, he might have actually enjoyed this.

Some smaller pieces got picked away individually and as Quill was finished, he stroked a couple of times up and down the whole back, checking if there was something missing. "That should be it for now, buddy."

A grumble came from Ronan which made Quill chuckle even more as he witnessed how the Kree swayed drowsily out of his arms and looked as lost as ever.

Boy, he couldn't stand this! If Peter wouldn't have known who was sitting in this tub, he would never have guessed that this man-child was supposed to be Ronan the Accuser! Letting out a sigh, he took a yellow sponge-thing from the tiny shelf next to the tub, dunked it underwater and began to wash off Ronan's face paint. The Kree held his eyes closed and endured whatever the Terran was doing to him. Though unknown to Peter, that was the normal procedure for a Kree of his rank.

 _He's kinda pretty,_ was Quill's conclusion after he had stared at the blue Kree for a good amount of time when the face was free of all the dried blood, black paint and dirt.

"Hey, you're asleep?" he joggled on Ronan's shoulder, who then only gave a low hum as an answer.

"Well, the water is incredibly dirty and murky..." Peter lifted himself up and proceeded to pull the plug. "You can open the faucet again to let new water in. Maybe you could also start to peel yourself out of your pants? I’m just gonna check on the food."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ronan still has his pants on 8D So the real deal is coming next chapter! hahaha
> 
> Thank you for reading. I hope y'all enjoyed it <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Don't forget to follow me on tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noted it: I've set the amount of total chapters to 6 :) This means that we're almost done with this fanfic! Though, behold, a sequel is already planned. It's going to be a one-shot and it will contain some more of your StarAccuser dreams ;)
> 
> First things first: Enjoy the new chapter!

The smell of hot cheese and tomato sauce filled the air. In the kitchen the small oven was working on its highest setting, doing its best to heat up the three lasagna single servings. It was a beautiful sight how the cheese bubbled and turned golden brown. Peter's belly grumbled lowly. His last complete meal had been a while ago - that gross sandwich - and he could definitely eat two of those lasagnas by himself. Watching the golden bubbles, he contemplated how he should handle this weird situation. After all, he had a genocidal maniac almost passing out in his bathtub yet no real plan on what would come after.

What should he do? He hadn't thought about that at all... he’d just acted impulsively and thus paddled down shit creek with a smile on his face. He - _they_ \- could obviously not stay on Xandar forever. Some random outlaw posts could shelter them for a while, sure, but he had no idea if there were any people or creatures left who still wanted Ronan dead. The answer was probably yes. He was also 100% sure that they would be followed and spied on by the Kree Empire and the Nova Corps, yet both of them would be of no help if... wait. Why does he even care about that Kree? He could just dump him in the middle of nowhere and... oh, boy! That's it! _Knowhere!_

The oven made a _ding_ sound and pulled Peter back into the present. He swiftly ran a hand through his hair and rubbed over his face before he fished some cutlery from the shelf behind him, plus a couple of plates. He stacked them on the kitchen counter, checked if the oven had turned off and then went for the bathroom.

He found Ronan sitting in the tub in a small puddle of murky water.

"Hey, why didn't you open the faucet again? Water bill is covered by the Xandarian tax payer, you know?"

The Kree had cut alongside his pants and the resulting shreds were hanging over the tub's edge. He was almost finished. A few more cuts and then his underpants would be history as well.

"I..." Ronan got interrupted as the Terran pivoted on his toes and left the bathroom again.

"Give me a second, I'll get some new clothing for you," he heard the Terran shout from the other room.

After a few moments, the Terran paraded back in and had some familiar looking clothing in his hands. Pants, a shirt and underwear, all neatly folded, in one of the most disgusting shades of red the Kree had ever seen. Was he really supposed to wear _that_?

The clothing was put down onto a stool and Peter knelt next to the bathtub again.

"Any more serious injuries on your legs? Or are they okay-ish?"

Ronan eyed the Terran with astonishment, because normally no one dared to leave the room when the Accuser was speaking. Eventually, he caught his train of thoughts again and answered: "The front is not harmed, as you can see, but there are deeper cuts and scratches on the backside."

"Well, then you should maybe not sit in this dirty water," the Terran reached for the faucet and let hot water pour into the tub. "When we're finished here, I'll check your injuries and patch them up if neccessary. The food is also ready, so hurry or it will be cold again."

The blue Kree pulled his slightly pointy ears back and put on a somewhat worried expression. _Cold food. Gross!_ He proceeded to free himself of his underpants while Peter was searching for a towel in a cupboard beneath the sink. As the Terran turned, he saw Ronan lift the remnants of his underpants, leaving the Kree sitting completely naked in the tub.

"Uuhm..." Peter's green eyes widened. "Bigger towel, I guess," he mumbled as he quickly dove down again.

Ronan was surprised as the Terran's face turned red. For a Kree, that's normally a sign of a malfunctioning carotid artery, so he scrutinized him further while the redhead produced a bigger towel out of a drawer.

"There you go!"

The Kree nodded politely. Maybe those Terrans turned red sometimes for no obvious reason. Well, Ronan wasn't about to leave the tub just yet; there was still a lot of dried blood and itchy crusts sticking to his body. He grabbed after the sponge and rubbed over his bruised skin. The Terran, on the other hand, had put the towel down and collected everything together which he would need to patch up Ronan. He got ointment, creams, gauze bandages and tape and neatly arranged all the items on the sink.

This whole scenario was so odd for Ronan. Leaving out that he had almost died and then been 'rescued' by the one who was responsible for all this - _washing himself_ was creeping him out even more. He could see how his unhurt skin was drying out, even while water was running down in streams. It was yearning for his beloved blood baths. His beautiful skin, which was more than just a sign of his status within the Kree population, was held so dear by him... all those wounds, all those scratches. He had fought in battle and had been injured before, yes, but never so devastatingly. He carefully stroked over his arms and legs, always drenching the sponge under the flowing hot water when it became too dirty, trying to get off as much debris as possible. Hearing a low giggle, he looked up.

The Terran was sitting on the closed toilet lid and had covered his mouth with his hand but Ronan could clearly see that the guy was smiling.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, well, you know..." the Terran made a dismissive hand gesture. " _Nothing._ "

"What did I do to amuse you?" Ronan asked a bit more aggressively, hissing through his black teeth.

" _This!_ " the Terran had to giggle again. "You look like a pouty child but deep down I know you just want to maul me to death."

 _Pouty child._ Ronan swallowed.

_Thanos._

Even though the water was pretty hot, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He must recover fast and think of a way to never encounter the Mad Titan again. There were some informants and spies he should take care of and some others should be easy to bribe. His family’s fortune might finally be useful to him. A couple of informants had also been working for him, so he probably should not kill them off. They could still be of help later...

The Kree flinched as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Whatever ghost you just saw, man, I must still insist that you finally get ready. It's not just you who is hungry." The Terran closed the faucet and then held the towel expectantly into Ronan's direction.

The Kree narrowed his eyes but eventually dropped the sponge and lifted himself up. At first, he sat down on the narrow, cold edge of the tub, then turned around, lifted his feet one by one and placed them on the small, fluffy carpet. He took the towel, dried his face and then patted down his arms and legs. Peter followed Ronan's gracile movements with curiosity. It was odd to see how careful and tenderly the Kree treated his body. A vain warlord. Jeez. Though the Terran had to admit that the radiant blue colour was beautiful. He had seen creatures with different shades of blue but none had been as shimmering as the Kree's. Red veins were surfacing slowly where the skin was dry, painting the muscular body like marble. His front was indeed mostly unharmed but as Ronan stood up and looked into the mirror, Peter was able to see the abrasions on the Kree's back in their full harsh reality. Black and purple spots and cuts, some of them still oozing blood.

 _Ouch_ , he winced silently and luckily unnoticed by the Kree, _and I was mindlessly rubbing up and down his back... that looks so painful!_

He bit into his lower lip. "Sorry, man..."

Ronan stopped the inspection of his face and looked back over his shoulder. "What are you sorry for?"

"When I scratched over your back earlier. I didn't see how bad your wounds really are. That must have hurt pretty badly."

"I am no stranger to pain."

"Yeah, but still," Peter combed nervously through his hair with his fingers. "I can tend to your wounds now, if you let me. Gonna treat 'em a little less harsh, too."

Ronan blinked and lowered his towel onto the rim of the sink. He wasn't used to people who didn't want to harm him. Or to people who would give him contra or wouldn't afford him with the respect he deserved. Though, at this very moment, he admitted to himself that he was glad that the Terran wasn't one of the persons who only wanted the worst for him. He maybe wasn't treated as he was used to but nevertheless he was treated nicely.

If there was something like a 'friendly growl' then that was the sound Ronan made while passing a tube of antiseptic cream to Peter. "Please."

Quill took the cream, opened it and poured a large amount onto one hand. The cream was cold and white with a hint of orange color, smelling of iodine and crispy herbs. Dipping two fingers into it, he began to apply it thoroughly all over Ronan's back and sides. There wasn't much unwounded space and it couldn't be wrong to keep Kree skin moisturized. The blue skin was soft and warm, the wounds even warmer. As Peter's fingers rubbed over the Kree's side Ronan suddenly shifted posture and leaned on the sink, head lowered down.

 _It's always this side_ , Peter realized as he stroked along the right flank. The Kree's expression, which he could see a little bit through the mirror, definitely wasn't a pleasant one. "If it's hurting too much, then I'll stop."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Dude, I can see your face in the mirror."

The blue hands flexed instantely and clawed into the towel. Ronan looked up and narrowed his lavender eyes, meeting green ones. To prove a point, Peter nudged into a very nasty looking wound and made Ronan look away again.

"Just be done with it," he heard the Kree hiss.

"Well, your back _is_ done but if I have to touch your butt, then you definitely have to pay me," Peter snorted, amused, but as Ronan pivoted around, he lifted his hands into a defensive position. The Kree towered at least a head above him. His lavender eyes were piercing Peter like they had pierced that poor Xandarian guard.

"Alright, alright! I'll do it!" Ronan turned back to further examine his face, while Peter knelt down and glared at the blue buttcheeks. _At least he's hot... dang, would he kill me if I smack that?_ Peter swallowed down a giggle and proceeded to smother the buttocks entirely with iodine cream. The most injured part was where butt met leg. Peter applied almost half the tub there because it seemed as if the Kree's skin was absorbing the nourishment like water.

"Hey, could you please prepare some of the patches? There should be some looking like a very fine webbed net." Ronan shifted and Peter heard some rustling. "Give me two of them, please." Some more rustling and then Peter saw from the corner of his eye that Ronan handed him the gauze. He took them and directly pushed the two against Ronan's butt, covering his right side. "Two more, please." This process continued until the Kree's complete backside up to his shoulders was covered.

"Okay. That stuff should prevent the bandages from fusing with your healing skin. Just gonna wrap you and then we're done!"

Ronan nodded and began to help Peter with the bandages. When they were done, the Terran left the bathroom and let Ronan dress in peace.

Back in the kitchen, Quill took the lasagnas out of the oven and of course that one heating bar in the back hadn't turned off completely, thus one of the lasagnas was a bit (well, a lot) darker than the others. At least he knew which one he would eat... and, hey, positive thinking, the lasagnas had stayed warm. He arranged the plates and cutlery on the bar, got a full, cold water bottle out of the fridge and a couple of glasses from the shelf above the stove. Sitting down on a barstool, he looked out of the big window front. The two suns were creeping along the firmament, flooding the whole appartment with bright light. The city looked nice from up here. Skyscrapers, busy traffic intersections, parks... _oh crap!_ The wrecked Dark Aster! That ship was so massive that it would take another month to dismantle it completely. Peter jumped up and wanted to close the curtains but Ronan was already coming out of the bathroom. The Kree walked right up next to Peter and looked out of the window. Neither of them said a word, though Peter sighed quietly when Ronan turned around without doing anything.

The Kree sat down and reached for the food, but the second his butt actually connected with the seat he flinched and jumped up again. With a frustrated growl he reached out to pull the burned lasagna close, apparently planning to remain standing.

"Uh, wait! Why are you eating the burned one?"

"Is that yours?" Ronan asked calmly.

"No, but... it's burned."

Ronan, not seeing any real argument here, dumped the whole serving on his plate and began to eat. Peter only shrugged his shoulders, secretly happy that he wouldn't have to eat the burned one, and took half of another lasagna. The first few minutes they ate in silence until Peter broke it with a question:

"I would sleep here one last time and then head out towards Knowhere. You're cool with that?"

"As long as I get off this planet, I will follow you."

...

_Aw._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! Looking forwards to your comments <3
> 
> [Don't forget my tumblr!](http://diarmour.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg! What... what is this!? A new chapter? O_O~ Wooooow
> 
> Yeah, I am proud as well.  
> Took me long enough x'D
> 
> The last chapter of this fanfic has arrived and I hope that you'll enjoy it like the previous ones ^-^  
> There will be a sequel to this fanfic, which I have already outlined. I just need to write it down.  
> My other fanfic will also get some love, now that it turned 1 year old :'D I just hope that I can deal with all this during the next couple of weeks, because I am leaving Germany and have lots of stuff to do.
> 
> But for now, enjoy the chapter ^-^

A clock was ticking. It was the only sound besides the scratching of cutlery against plates that filled Peter's little apartment. He was leaning against the backrest of his barstool and took small sips of his water, thoughtfully reflecting on the past hour. The lasagna hadn't been that bad and even Ronan seemed to like it - even the burned one. Though the Kree was most likely just starving too much to actually care about the taste. He would probably eat whatever Peter would put in front of his nose. Because, wow, how he had devoured that disgustingly sweet Xandarian candy earlier was still baffling Peter. Smiling slightly, he scrutinized the Kree a bit further. _He's been standing the whole time..._

Soon his gaze drifted wearily over to the window front. One sun was directly shining in his face, blinding him a bit, but the colors were just too stunning to miss. He couldn't deny that Xandar was a beautiful planet. Nice climate, lush forests, big oceans. Only the inhabitants were nuts, that one he couldn't refute.

The eventful day finally changed into peace-bringing night. Fluffy clouds dyed with warm yellow and red colors forecast a cold night, and painted the far horizon into a beautiful piece of art. Peter took another sip, trying to enjoy this calm moment. Yet he couldn't. Inside, his mind was too unsettled by the recent events.

The last few days had been terrible in general. Not enough sleep. Gross food. Big blue maniac. Even the old days, back abroad the Elector, where Peter had to fear getting killed every other second had been a pleasant stroll compared to this whole mess. And it wasn’t just the final battle that was taking a toll on him but the thought that he was alone now, _completely_. Something he wasn’t sure he could cope with. Yondu had never been this enraged and Gamora and the others had taken off as soon as Corpsman Dey had excused them. They didn't even have the decency to say good bye. He was alone. He had joked so many times about this - that Yondu would eventually kick him out - but now that it had happened, he felt lost.

As lost as he had been when Yondu had taken him from Earth.

Maybe the stupid stone was still messing with him?

His skin tingled weirdly from time to time, the deep ache in his limbs hadn't vanished and his thoughts were uncommonly depressing. It had been a mild source of constant pain for him throughout the days. Had anyone ever asked him how he felt? He couldn't remember. He didn't _want_ to remember because he knew that the answer was _'no'_. Being alive was okay, but somehow, at this very moment, he only wanted to lay down and never get up again. Seeing his mum, hearing her voice, touching her hand... Peter briefly closed his eyes and swallowed. _God damn!_ He's a grown up man, living in space, having witnessed terror and destruction multiple times, but it was seeing his mum again, doing what he had wished he had done when he was a kid, _taking her hand_ , that was tearing him apart. His heart ached more than his whole body combined.

 _It must be the stone._ Normally, Peter was a life-loving and happy dork. Feeling as blue as Ronan is was so odd. He cleared his throat and looked back to the Kree. Ronan's skin almost sparkled in the sun. It's shade wasn't that even, now that Peter focussed on it. The color was maybe comparable to mixed blue sand, freckled with lilac and turquoise. The red Ravager uniform he had given to Ronan was the one Drax didn't want. The Destroyer had insisted that he wouldn't need a shirt, or jacket, or a second pair of pants. _Back then._ They didn’t fit Ronan anyway. He was too tall and more muscular than Drax. _Though some sort of compression wouldn’t be bad when injured heavily,_ Peter figured.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Peter blinked in surprise. "What?" He cleared his throat again and took a sip of his water: "I was lost in thought. Sorry, didn't mean to."

Ronan finished the last bits of his lasagna and then gulped down his water in one go. He placed his glass back on the table and announced: "I am going to the Dark Aster."

The Terran almost choked. "Hurgh?" He wiped over his mouth with his sleeve. "Why?"

"I need to retrieve something important to me."

"What? Don't tell me you have a spare hammer," Peter grinned, shoving aside any negative feelings he had felt mere moments ago.

"Spare hammer?" Ronan frowned. "No. Something else."

"Well, then let's go before it's too dark outside!"

 

 

\--- -- -

 

 

They actually did it.

They went out and were standing in front of the wrecked Dark Aster half an hour later. The ship was so big that some parts were not patrolled for a minute or two when the guards had to turn around a corner. No one was allowed to board it, obviously, not only because of the danger that it could collapse entirely within seconds but due to the fact that it's a goddamn Kree warship. They both scurried into the vastness of the black battleship through a big hole in the hull, unseen, as the patrolling guard was finally out of sight. 

The lower tiers of the Dark Aster had been completely destroyed during the crash, though the higher levels were still intact and now the new ground level. They firstly walked along a narrow corridor, where little fires here and there were eating away the structure and spending light. Their path was crossed by loosely hanging chunks of metal, cables, broken walls and dead Sakaarans.

_As inviting as the first time._

Peter wasn't worried that Ronan would run off because he could clearly see that walking was still pretty hard for the former warlord. He was more scared that he would get lost and never find a way out again. Last time he went aboard this ship, Gamora had led their way. And how they had gotten out was history.

Eventually, the narrow corridor opened up to a bigger chamber and Ronan halted for a second. Two doors in front of them were closed, another one was blocked due to a collapsed wall. It seemed that the Kree wanted to take exactly that route, with the collapsed wall, as he proceeded to lever half of it away. A loud bang echoed through the ship when the obstacle finally hit the floor.

The door behind it opened effortlessly and let them enter into a huge, gloomy hall. The walls in there were at least 3 levels high, yet the ends were too far up to be seen. The ground had sacked down to the right, inclining their way. A pool of dark liquid had formed at the lowest point. _Maybe gasoline? No... Iron?_ The smell, which tingled Peter's nose, was the same he had smelled many times, even back on Earth, where he and his mom had visited a zoo once. Tigers and lions. Carnivores.

_Blood._

It hit Peter like a fist to the face. Now that he had identified the smell, he saw it everywhere. On the walls, on the ground: dried, dark blood. It was splattered all around the enormous hall. A Jackson Pollock, but way more macabre. The Kree limped slightly ahead of him and around a little plateau where something was mounted, which kind of looked like one of those water dispensers back in school. Quill inspected it further and instantely regretted that, rolling his eyes away. On one side of the pillar was an iron collar embedded and bits of undefined organic nature were sticking to it. Peter didn't want to know what exactly he had seen but, well, it was the brain of some poor fella. _Urgh._ When he looked up, Ronan had disappeared.

Breaking into a faster trot, Quill went into the next attached chamber. _From one cell into the next, jeez._ There, Ronan stood in the upper right corner of the rectangular room, his back turned into Peter's direction. It looked as if he had a piece of paper in his hands. Though, what struck Peter more was the room itself: white, meter long curtains were hanging from the ceiling and were softly flowing with a low breeze. Touching them, he felt that they were oh so smooth and almost stroking him back. 

The black-tiled ground was covered with white, partly burned paper, broken glass and rotting, yet sweet smelling flowers. Some of the flowers were still blooming, with tiny specks of yellow in the center and delicate petals in different shades of blue and pink all around it. Sadly, the majority of the flowers had decayed into brown sludge as they had fallen out of their broken vases. The smell in this room was still lighter, fresher than outside. Not so full of death and pain. Something spicy or scented mingled with the light odor as well. Maybe some sort of incense?

"What ya got there?" Peter advanced and came to a halt next to Ronan.

The Kree indeed held a piece of paper in his hands: a photograph. It had captured 5 people, 2 older ones and 3 younger ones, and all had the same shimmering blue skin like Ronan. _A family photo?_ Sadly, Peter saw that it had been ripped apart when Ronan slightly shifted his posture. Due to the rupture, one person - the smallest kid - was separated from the others. They were all smiling, except for the little one. If the photo wouldn't be torn, it would show even more clearly that the smallest was clutching the skirt of the taller woman, indicating the kid's discomfort, and explaining even more why the child was pouting.

_Naaaw ....... ... HOLY SHIT!_

"Is that you, Ronan!?" Peter's eyes widened and compared the little boy with the man who was standing next to him. It was definitely him: the same spectacular eyes, that tiny red vein, which was running down from his left eye to the corner of his upper lip... It was unmistakably Ronan. And suddenly Peter realized how mournful the Kree looked.

"It's torn," Ronan whispered lowly and let his hands sink, the photo pieces slowly sliding out of his grip and sailing down towards the ground.

"Hey-"

"We should leave." Ronan cut off Peter. "The Aster's metal skeleton is too fragile. We shouldn't be in here more than necessary." With that said, Ronan set into motion and limped out of the room. Peter shrugged his shoulders and followed, but not before he had picked up the pieces of the photo and stuffed them unseen into his jacket pocket.

As they made their way out, they heard voices echoing through the halls. The loud noise, when half the wall had fallen onto the floor to clear their way, must have alarmed the guards. Luckily they got out of the Dark Aster before anyone could discover them.

Outside, both of the suns had set. The sky was still a little red on one side of the horizon, yet dark blue was quickly devouring the last light of the day. Some stars were already visible, making Peter yearn to go to his ship and just fly away; leaving this stupid planet behind, never to return again. He let out a long sigh and then walked silently next to Ronan, hands in his pockets. Well, unfortunately for Ronan, he is Peter Quill - he couldn't stay silent for long:

"Ronan?"

"Please, I don't want to talk now."

"You wanna leave Xandar tonight?"

At that question, Ronan turned his head and met green eyes begging for a 'yes'.

"I would very much appreciate that. Yes."

"Great!" Peter grinned. "Then let's just pick up my stuff and we gonna leave immediately."

Unnoticed by both of them, they started to move faster.

 

 

\--- -- -

 

 

Ronan had never been on an M-Ship. The Terran had told him that this was a terrible remodelling of his former M-Ship, the Milano, given to him purely out of courtesy from the Nova, because he had somewhat saved the day (and pissed off everyone and the galaxy by doing so). It was bigger than expected, clean, tidy, though well suited for a dirty pack of outlaws: The electronics were outdated, the weapons some of the weakest he had ever seen and the furniture seemed to be older than he himself. _Unbelievable that this trashcan is able to fly._ The Kree was used to so much more: high-end electronics and navigational systems, the best military screens, industrial architecture where function was set above all. Well, he was only a passenger at this moment and thus let the Terran do whatever he had to do to get this ship off of the ground.

Ronan sat very still in his chair, buckled up and observing everything what happened. To his surprise, the guy he only knew as 'Star-Lord' wasn't such a bad pilot. He maneuvered the M-Ship out of the hangar as if he actually knew what he was doing.

When they reached deep space, the Terran jumped up, hammered the coordinates of Knowhere into the autopilot, stretched himself and turned around.

"Yo, buddy, I am tired as hell. I didn't sleep for what feels like eternity. Do whatever you want, though no ship dismantling, bomb building or murdering me in my sleep." Quill yawned and scratched his beard. "You can have a look around. Here are enough rooms with beds. Take whichever one you want, though I wouldn't recommend the one next to the engine. I'll sleep there," the Terran pointed at one door and strode into the direction of it. While passing Ronan, he patted quickly over the blue, bald head and proceeded as if nothing had happened.

 _Did he just-!?_ , Ronan whirled around and tried to grab after the Terran's hand, though when Star-Lord suddenly began to shout ' **WOAH!** ' and pivoted around, the Kree withdrew his hand and looked startled and confused at the Terran, not knowing what just had happened. 

Peter glared menacingly at the Kree and pointed with one finger at him: "One more thing: leave the fucking chocolate alone! That one is mine! Now, good night."

Even more confused, Ronan scrunched up his weirdly shaped eyebrows and eventually crossed his arms in front of his chest, resigning. He didn't even know what chocolate was!

The door to Star-Lord's chamber slit shut, leaving him behind.

Finally, the ship was quiet. Only low beeps and the murmur of the engine was audible.

Sitting there by himself, Ronan realized that he must learn how to deal with defiant attitudes. His subordinates would never dare to come at him with such a disobedient way of speech or make him uncomfortable with... with touching him so inappropriately. He couldn't get rid of Star-Lord just yet. The Terran had helped him and it was his duty to pay him back - which normally included not to kill the helping person or creature. Kree law wasn't specific in this matter though: the Terran had thwarted his plans of bringing peace to the folk of the Kree, which was against the law, yet he had also taken care of the _Supreme_ Accuser and had nursed him back to a moderate level of health, which was obviously to put in his favour. Ronan weighed up the pros and cons on letting Star-Lord live:

That man was an outlaw and would know his way around. The easiest option would be to stick together for a while and maybe learn how to live off the grid. After all, Ronan’s whole being and meaning of life had been crushed. His enemies must think that he was defeated and locked up on Xandar. He could stay underground and prepare his return carefully and failure proof. Money wasn't the only resource required to get him back into the game, but he had plenty of it anyway - he could buy a whole planet of slaves for himself! - what he truly needed, though, was connections and supporters. Thanos' ghouls wouldn't be easy to bribe, yet alone to kill.

_This ludicrous claim though!_

Ronan balled his hands into fists and ground his fingers. Just because of the claim he wanted to split that Terran's skull and throw him into his hot blood _onsen_ back on Hala. 

The only positive thing within this situation was that the Terran had no idea how potent said claim was. The new Kree emperor must have looked ridiculous when Star-Lord spoke those words. _The most powerful Supreme Accuser of all times claimed by a primitive._

A low noise of disgust escaped Ronan as he drew both of his palms in front of his face, _unbelievably preposterous_ , rubbing over his features as if he wanted to forget all of this. Another question was if Nova Prime knows. The current emperor didn't like him that much; thus he would never concede that he fully supports Ronan. Yet revealing to the foe that these types of claims exist would be an unnecessary confession of weakness. Old habits and customs of the Kree shouldn't be known throughout the Galaxy. Otherwise no one would ever take them serious again or see them as an aggressive pack of supreme beings who would die for their homeworld.

Closing his eyes, Ronan tried to relax. The humming sound of the engine was soothing and made him drift off a little too much. Jerking back upright, he groaned frustrated, feeling how his mind was slumbering away too many times. Exhaustion was inevitably creeping up on his mind and body, and his attention span was all but short. He made the decision to finally give in and grant his body some needed rest.

He smiled bitterly.

It had taken the Kree lots of willpower to sit down on the co-pilot chair at first. Not only because it was the _co-_ pilot chair, but sitting on his butt was hurting a lot. Standing up would be even more painful. His backside was so sore that sometimes even lifting his knees was putting too much tension on the healing skin, forcing him to make baby steps. He clenched his teeth together and heaved himself upright.

Stretching his arms and back, he felt how tight and dry his skin was under all those bandages. The terrible itch crawled back and the thought of using a corner to release it was very tempting. He shook his head, not allowing himself to fall so low to scratch his back on a corner _like a lesser creature_. In order to distract himself from such ridiculous thoughts, he instead wandered off into the direction of the kitchen. Maybe he could manipulate the Terran to be his personal attendant. Star-Lord had definitely too much empathy, making him vulnerable to the slightest indication of discomfort. Acting as if he was in pain should be enough to make the Terran obedient to his needs.

The M-ship had a couple of sleeping quarters which were how Ronan liked them: empty. Only equipped with a single bed and nothing else (that otherwise might be used as a weapon to kill him in his sleep), he chose the room close to the kitchen and 3 doors down from Star-Lord's. The light sources were mostly hidden behind the walls and thus only a warm glow illuminated the compact and spartanic room. The bed was mere inches too short for him, though after moving on the bed quite a bit, he finally found a position he could sleep in - lying on his stomach and propping the pillow under his head. The blanket he left aside, because his body was finally able again to regulate his own temperature.

Dozing off, he heard how soft tunes were gently filling the air, lulling him into a dreamless sleep. _Music._

Even three doors down, the Terran still managed to be in his mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, we did it!
> 
> I hope that the wait was worth it :'3  
> The sequel is going to be a long one-shot.
> 
> See you soon! ^-^
> 
> (oh and, I know I am also not _that_ active on tumblr, but I still love me some followers ^3^ [diarmour.tumblr](http://diarmour.tumblr.com/)


End file.
